Killian never thought it was possible to hate a forest of all things, but he sure as hell hates this one. They are able to walk three or so steps without anything happening but as soon as they try to walk in the direction that will take them out of this blasted place, Emma jolts to a stop.

His heart all but stops as he watches her bend over in obvious agony, the heel of her hands pressing into her eyes as she inhales a sharp breath through her teeth.

He's been through a lot in his life and he can count on one hand the number of times something has made him feel completely powerless—and nothing has ever made him feel more helpless than he does right now, watching as Emma Swan curls over in pain from a force he cannot see.

Running his hand along her spine and brushing her hair back from her face, Killian murmurs soft words of comfort into her ear, unsure of how to offer anything but the assurance of his touch and his voice as she takes heavy breaths and waits for the pain to pass.

After what Killian swears is ages, Emma finally straightens and slowly turns to face him. The water rimming her eyes feels like a knife in his chest, a piercing ache that rips straight through his heart. Reaching up to cup her cheek he uses his thumb to wipe away a stray tear as it falls.

He sighs as Emma leans her head into his hand, the weight of their predicament heavy on his shoulders. He doesn't want her in pain, but he doesn't trust whatever the bloody hell the planet is trying to do with her either.

"Maybe," Emma finally voices after a moment of silence, "if you try to help me walk during one of the attacks? Even if it lasts until we get out of here. I can manage it as long as the pain doesn't—"

"Swan, no." He interrupts her shaking his head, baffled at what she's suggesting. "I'm sorry but that is a horrible idea. It took us hours to get here. I am not going to put you through hours of pain—and who's to say it's not going to get worse if we try to force our way out?"

He can feel his own worries and frustration rising, burning their way through his insides. His hands begin to shake and he takes a step away from her and runs both through his hair, gripping at the ends and resisting the urge to kick at the nearest tree. His chest rises and falls rapidly and he tries to control the rage he feels towards the planet and its strange magic. But each breath that fills his lungs only fuels his desperate frustration.

He doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to fix this, doesn't know how to help her.

And it's killing him.

"Then what do you purpose we do? You don't want to follow it, but you don't want to fight against it. Those are our only options, Killian."

"I don't know!" He shouts through his teeth, tension radiating all the way up to his jaw as he clenches it and tries to swallow the anger clawing up his throat. Emma's eyes widen at his outburst and its then that Killian notices how exhausted she looks. Her eyes overcast with the fatigue that's dripping from her hunched shoulders and it's almost immediate the way the anger inside him melts, dissipating like mist under the sun. Replaced by the need to gather her in his arms and offer her the rest she needs.

With a sigh he wraps his arms around her and presses a kiss to her hair. Closing his eyes he inhales deeply and lets the scent of her calm him. "I don't know," he repeats softer, a murmur that's all but lost in the soft tangles of her hair.

Killian feels her shrug against him, "Let's just try it."

He hates this, and wishes there was some way for him to take the pain she feels and suffer it himself. "We stop the second it's too much," he accedes already knowing they're going to regret this.

She nods and tries to give him a reassuring smile but he can't even manage half of one in return.

He watches as Emma steels herself, she takes in a lungful of air and holds it for a few seconds before blowing it out in one slow breath. She takes a step forward and he can pinpoint the exact moment the pain hits her. She flinches and grits her teeth, automatically recoiling from the unseen assailant, but she nods her head, keeping eye contact with him and encouraging him to keep them going.

Standing by her side he keeps one arm wrapped around her and uses the other hand to grip at her elbow. Trying to use the least amount of pressure possible Killian pushes her forward, urging her to walk. Together they take a few steps and it seems to work until Emma tenses further and resists against Killian's efforts. She lets out a cry of pain that is quickly followed by a chocked back sob.

Killian stops immediately. Panic surging through him as Emma collapses against him, no longer holding up her own weight. Lowering them to the ground he pulls her onto his lap and holds her tight against him. Her quiet whimpers and shallow breathing tell him she's still conscious. He runs his hand up and down her back, just as before, and waits with her until the moment passes.

This one takes far longer, but when it does pass Emma presses her face into his neck and stays there as she gains control of her breathing. Her eyelashes brush against his skin as she blinks and he can feel the wetness of the tears that cling to them. She makes no effort to move and so he rocks her gently, periodically pressing kisses to the top of her head

"I don't think that's going to work," she whispers after a few minutes of silence.

Killian barks out a humorless laugh, finding none of this remotely funny. "No, definitely not."

She pulls back from her place nestled against his chest and Killian's heart constricts when their eyes meet. The echoes of what she just experienced are still etched across her face, still present in her eyes, and Killian wants nothing more than to take her and hide her away from whatever the bloody hell is going on.

"I guess we follow where it wants us to go," she says, her voice quiet and matter of fact.

Killian nods solemnly, as much as he loathes the idea he sees no other option at this point. He makes his way to his feet, moving carefully as he pulls her up with him. She sways slightly once standing on her own but assures Killian she's fine before he even has the chance to ask.

She doesn't move as Killian gathers their supplies, swinging the pack onto his shoulders and taking hold of both laundry bags in one hand.

Emma holds her hands out expectantly, but instead of handing her one of the bags he takes her outstretched hand and threads their fingers together.

"I'll hold them," he tells her. Because despite how pretty she looks with the wind twisting her hair into a delicate frame around her face, her eyes are still rimmed with red and she looks a bit like the only reason she's standing is because someone stacked her bones upright for her.

Emma gives him a grateful smile and an affectionate squeeze of her hand. "It started once we followed the stream on the left—so let's try the one on the right? At least I hope that's where it wants us to go otherwise I fear I may be stuck in this one spot for the rest of my life."

Killian grimaces at her dry attempt at humor but nods nonetheless. "Aye, the right sounds good."

But despite their chosen direction neither of them moves. They remain motionless, like a suspended breath at the edge of a cliff. Waiting for the inevitable moment the wind will carry them over and praying there's something at the bottom waiting unseen to catch them.

Brave and strong as always, his Swan is the first one to take a step. It's hesitant and tense, and she approaches the grass in front of her like she would a bed of nails. But as she shifts forward nothing happens. The relief between them is palpable—seeping all the way through to their joined hands—and Emma looks up and flashes a grin at him as she takes another step forward.

He keeps easily besides her as she follows the stream on the right, and every step they take without inciting an attack seems to make Emma's smile grow wider and wider. "It's working!" she exclaims, all but jumping in how relieved she sounds.

Killian tries his best to keep his expression positive, but he has a hard time counting bending to the will of anything, even some strange unseen energy, just so it won't hurt you as a victory.

But Emma's no longer in pain and that's all that matters, so he squeezes her hand and smiles even though he knows it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Aye, love. It's working."

Five.

That's the number of times Killian feels Emma jerk to a sudden stop and fold in on herself as pain rips through her. Five is the number of times they have to change the direction their walking to keep the buzzing he can't feel complacent.

But five is not counting the number of times Killian holds Emma as they wait for the attack to pass. Because five does not count the number of times they have to take a wild guess as to which direction their supposed to go. If they're lucky they get it right on the first try—but they usually aren't lucky.

And as the hours wear on so does Emma's energy. He can see it in the way she sags against him, in the way she takes a little longer to straighten after each onslaught, and he wonders if with every additional attack the pain lingers with her a little longer.

It's not anywhere near nightfall but he's not sure Emma can go much farther—and even if she could, he knows he can't handle watching her endure any more for the day. So before they can continue on in the newest direction he drops both laundry bags and his pack to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Emma asks, but her question lacks even the slightest trace of strength, every word sounding as though it takes an immense effort to even make it past her lips.

"I'm making camp," he says simply, already pulling blankets out to make their bed, "and you're going to rest."

"Killian—"

He's bent over busying himself with getting things ready but he doesn't even need to see her to know she's about to protest—he just spreads another blanket out and waits for her to continue.

"It's too early to stop."

He hums in response and fluffs his handiwork one last time before stepping over the bed to begin making a clearing for the fire.

"I'm fine," she half whispers to herself and Killian's ears have to strain to catch her words. Her frustrated sigh drifts over to him along with the forest's soft breeze, soon followed by the sounds of her settling herself down on top of the blankets.

He's spinning a stick into another to try and spark a flame but he pauses for a second and looks up at her. She sits with her arms folded tight around her legs, knees pulled up against her chest, and she watches him with tired eyes. He can't help but think she looks so small sitting in the middle of their bed with her arms wrapped around herself as if they're the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart.

"You're not fine." He returns his attention back to trying to light the fire, cursing when he continues to get nothing but a tiny, twisting stream of smoke. "You're exhausted and wherever the bloody hell this planet is trying to take you is just going to have to wait while you rest. And if I could just get this blasted fire to light then—" the stick he's relentlessly drilling into the other snaps in half and he curses again, tossing it the forest floor.

"Here," Emma murmurs with an easy flick of her hand. Tall, blazing flames erupt instantly from the gathered tinder, the heat that emits from it resembling a fire that's been burning for hours rather than seconds.

Killian stands and brushes his hands off on his pants. "Thanks, love."

She gives him a gentle smile and a little shrug before pulling back a few of the blankets and stretching herself out beneath them. Slipping off his shoes Killian crawls in and joins her. She scoots closer and Killian doesn't hesitate to gather her to his chest, her leg tangling between both of his. He feels her lips press against the space above his heart before she rests her head against him.

"Where do you think it's leading us?" she asks, her quiet question nearly drowned out by the soft melody of the forest. It intertwines with the sound of the leaves as they brush against each other in the wind, and with the never-ending song of an unseen bird that twitters somewhere in the endless branches above them. Her voice its own type of music, and it creates a song he's sure his soul has memorized.

He tilts his head down and buries his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. "I don't know. I just hope it's not anywhere that's going to get us killed."

He feels her body lift with a tiny shrug. "I don't know… I don't think it's taking us anywhere dangerous." She's overcome by a long, sudden yawn, causing her next words to float out as a sigh, "Just a feeling I get."

Killian doesn't respond right away, but rests his chin atop her head as he contemplates what she said. He's not sure he would feel the same if he were the one it was sending ripping pain through. "I hope you're right, Swan."

She hums and squirms a bit against him, burrowing deeper into his embrace, and it doesn't take long for her breathing to slow and even out as she falls asleep. Killian spends the remainder of the evening tracing nonsense patterns against Emma's skin, lost in thought as the world around him darkens and he finds himself staring up at the dark canopy of trees and wishing he could see the stars.

The sensation of something feather light tickling his cheek is what pulls Killian back to consciousness. He screws his eyes shut tighter and brushes away the offending object. A comforting weight leaves his chest and when he blinks his eyes open he's greeted with the vision of Emma, her hair a right mess, leaning over him. He realizes the culprit responsible for waking him when one of the blonde tresses that hangs in a curtain around her face skims his cheek again.

Reaching up he tucks her hair behind her ear and cups her cheek. She leans her head into his hand and beams down at him, her smile bright and beautiful.

"Good morning, lieutenant."

"Good morning, my princess. And how are you feeling?"

"Fine," she shrugs. He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes. "Okay, maybe a little tired still, and possibly a little sore—but much better than yesterday."

"I'm glad to hear it." He says as he pulls them both up to a sitting position. "Let's make some breakfast, shall we?" He gives her a quick kiss and makes it half way to standing before he changes his mind and sits back down. He brings his hand up and brushes his thumb across her cheek bone, meeting the brilliant gaze of her emerald eyes. "On second thought I'll make breakfast, you stay here. Best not to anger the mysterious buzzing."

He kisses her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her lips and delighting in the way she hums when they pull apart.

Breakfast is a quick thing. He heats the first thing he finds and they eat it in relative silence. Like breakfast, Killian does most of the work when they break camp. He's hesitant for Emma to walk anywhere unnecessary, fearful of triggering an otherwise avoidable attack. She must feel the same because she doesn't protest. Choosing to fold some of the blankets but keeping relatively to the exact same spot the entire time.

When it's time to leave he takes her hand and they share a long, heavy look. Burdened with the shared realization that this is nothing either of them expected when they set out to find a home. He squeezes her hand and the corner of her mouth lifts slightly before she drops her gaze and begins walking in the direction they determined was safe the day before.

As it turns out, the days walking goes a lot smoother than it had yesterday, for which Killian is grateful. Wherever they are being led is now more or less a straight shot, meaning they only have to stop and change direction a couple of times—and far less often.

As a result Emma is far happier and takes to periodically swinging their joined hands as they walk.

"Maybe this means we're almost there," she says, hope filling her voice and permeating each step she takes. He almost thinks that if he wasn't holding her hand she'd start dancing down the verdant forest path.

"Aye, perhaps."

He's still anxious about where they're being led, but it's hard not to feel affected by Emma's happiness, and for the first time the tinniest part of him feels like maybe they aren't being led to something with malicious intent.

But only a small part of him—the other part is still highly distrustful of the entire situation.

It's not even ten minutes later when they find themselves walking into a very large clearing and what they see has them both freezing on the spot, mouths dropping open.

People.

People are milling about between handmade shelters and stamped out campfires. And not just one or two, but what looks like a small village teeming with the lives of fifty or more individuals. Some sitting and casually talking, while others are up and about working on one thing or another, there are even a few small children whose laughter rings through the air as they chase one another.

"Impossible—" Emma whispers, the shock in her voice mirroring the feelings that are buzzing through his entire being. How is this possible?

"Emma?!"

Both of their heads whip to the right, searching for the source of the shout. Standing a good twenty feet away are two individuals that Killian has only met for two very brief moments.

"E-Elsa? Ruby?" Emma's cry is strangled, a gasp that settles somewhere between a sob and laughter.

In the time it takes him to blink, Emma has ripped her hand from his and is running at full speed towards her once lost friends, golden hair flying behind her. Killian watches with a smile and tears burning behind his eyes as she launches herself at them. They catch her in a jumbled hug, all three women holding on to each other in a desperate embrace.

Emma throws back her head in pure joy, her elated laughter sailing over to him with the forest breeze.

As sweet as any music.

Yay Ruby and Elsa are alive! An guesses on what's in store? And as always I would love a review :)